How to train for Hyrox: a 12-week plan that runs in a garage

Most Hyrox training plans are written by people with a sled.
That is the whole problem. You read the station list, you picture yourself pushing 152 kilos across turf, and you conclude that this race is not for anyone who trains in a garage before the house wakes up. Then you go looking for a gym membership you will use twice.
I have been coaching since 2012, and I built a twelve week plan for exactly this problem, because it is my problem too. Shoes, one pair of dumbbells, a loaded backpack, a wall or a hill. Five hours a week. Here is what I found when I actually did the research, and the part of it that changed how I train.
What the race actually is
Eight runs of one kilometer, with eight stations in between them, in the same order at every event in the world.
In order | Open division |
|---|---|
1. SkiErg, 1000 m | No load |
2. Sled push, 50 m | 152 kg men, 102 kg women |
3. Sled pull, 50 m | 103 kg men, 78 kg women |
4. Burpee broad jumps, 80 m | Bodyweight |
5. Row, 1000 m | No load |
6. Farmers carry, 200 m | 2 × 24 kg men, 2 × 16 kg women |
7. Sandbag lunges, 100 m | 20 kg men, 10 kg women |
8. Wall balls, 100 reps | 6 kg to 3.00 m men, 4 kg to 2.70 m women |
Sled figures are the total loaded weight with the sled included, not plates on top. Most first-timers finish somewhere between 1:20 and 1:50, and the clock never stops, including every second you spend walking between stations.
The finding that changes everything: the two stations you cannot own are the two that separate the field least
I went looking for how much the sleds actually cost a garage athlete. The answer is not what I expected.
Across 395,452 solo results, the field's median sled push is 3:01 and the median sled pull is 5:18. Between them, under a tenth of your race. But the more useful number is the spread: how far a station separates the fastest tenth of the field from the slowest tenth, which is a measure of how much a station sorts people out.
Station | Spread, men / women | Can you own it |
|---|---|---|
Wall balls | 6:28 / 6:00 | Yes. A wall and a ball |
Burpee broad jumps | 4:38 / 5:38 | Yes. A floor |
Sled pull | 3:53 / 4:07 | No |
Sled push | 2:19 / 2:14 | No |
Row | 1:12 / 1:22 | No |
SkiErg | 0:57 / 1:12 | No |
Read the bottom two rows again. The two machines you do not own separate the field less than anything else in the race. The widest gap in the sport is a wall ball, the second widest is a burpee, and both of those need a floor.
Hyrox's own Sports Science Report found the same thing from the other direction: analyzing more than 14,000 Male Open performances, wall balls had the highest variability of any station, with burpee broad jumps and the sandbag lunge close behind, while the SkiErg and row were the most consistent. Those three high-variability stations also correlated most strongly with total finish time. The report calls them the key splits in the race.
Three of the four widest gaps need nothing but a floor, a wall and a pair of dumbbells.
The one number that decides your race, and almost nobody gets it right
Run 1 is the fastest kilometer of the day for essentially everyone who has ever raced this.
Measured against their own eight-run average, age-group men open somewhere between 73 and 94 seconds per kilometer too fast. Elite men open 27 seconds too fast. The gap shrinks by a factor of three as people get good at this, which tells you what getting good at it mostly is.
Here is a published field average across 12,479 results from two races: 4:20, 5:22, 5:41, 5:37, 5:50, 5:41, 5:45, 6:13. The whole story is in the first step. The jump from Run 1 to Run 2 is a minute and two seconds, and every other step in the race is between nine seconds faster and twenty eight seconds slower. That minute is not fatigue arriving. It is the first kilometer being a lie.
Most pacing advice in this sport puts race-run pace at your 5k pace plus ten to fifteen seconds a kilometer. Hold that against a running table and it falls over: threshold pace, the pace a trained runner holds for about an hour, sits at only 5k pace plus sixteen or seventeen. So the common advice asks a man with a ninety minute day ahead of him to run better than one hour race pace, eight times, with a station between each one.
My working target is 5k pace plus about fifty seconds per kilometer, and the first two runs go out another ten slower than that. And I will be straight about what nobody knows: no public dataset pairs individual 5k times with Hyrox splits. That target is a starting point you correct against benchmarks, not a law.
What you genuinely cannot train at home
The sleds. There is no honest substitute and anyone selling you a conversion number invented it.
What you can train without one is position, which is most of what good sled technique actually is: torso low, hips under shoulders, arms locked and passive, short choppy steps, a hard exhale every second or third step. All of that rehearses against a wall for free. A loaded pack on a steep hill buys you the leg drive, the aerobic cost and the breathing rhythm. It does not buy you the horizontal push through locked arms, the turf friction, or the price of stopping once you have stopped.
Nobody has measured how many real-sled exposures a first-timer needs, so every number you will see is a guess in a good suit. My rule instead: touch a real sled at least once before race day, and touch it tired. A drop-in at a Hyrox-style gym usually runs somewhere around 25 to 45 dollars. Phone ahead and ask for the sled and the turf by name, because Hyrox affiliation carries no mandatory equipment requirement, so a gym on the affiliate list does not promise you either one.
The station nobody trains, and it is not on the list
The rulebook names the Roxzone throughout, in the penalties, in the conduct section, in the course layout, and never once defines it. In practice it is the residual: everything the clock could not hand to a run or a station. The walk in, the setup, the standing there with your hands on your knees. It reaches your results row as one number for the whole race, which is why it is the easiest thing in the sport to ignore.
Call it six to eight percent of your day. In one analysis of 825 finishers, athletes under 1:10 spent 3:41 in there and athletes over 1:30 spent 6:58. Take that ladder one rung at a time, and take it honestly: the people above you are not only more disciplined, they are fitter, which is why they can jog what you are walking. The realistic prize is a minute or two, not the five somebody will try to sell you.
The check that costs nothing: your entire Roxzone, for the whole race, should come in under one of your average kilometer splits. You can verify it on your own results row the same evening.
And there are rules in there that cost more than the whole prize. Running into the Roxzone through the OUT arch, or out through the IN arch, is a two minute penalty, and it is detected automatically by your chip with no judge involved. Pouring aid-station water over your head instead of drinking it is two minutes. Using your own chalk, or the event's chalk anywhere but the two stations that provide it, is two minutes. There is no penalty lap in this sport, so none of it can be worked off. It lands on your result after you cross the line.
One reprieve is worth knowing: leaving the kettlebells or the sandbag out of place is thirty seconds, and it is waived if you go back and fix it before you exit the Roxzone. Look back before you leave.
Compromised running, and the week that survives real life
The skill this race actually charges for is running at your target when your legs have just been emptied by a station. It feels nothing like a normal run, and it is the thing a plan built around fresh intervals will never give you.
The week I run is deliberately boring, because a week that needs a good night to work is not a week, it is a hobby.
Monday, lift: lower body and carries, biased to the lunge and sled patterns
Tuesday, easy run, at a pace where I can hold a full sentence
Wednesday, the one scored hard day, which is where the compromised running lives
Thursday, a loaded walk, which is the closest legal thing I own to the sandbag and the sled
Friday, lift: pressing and pulling, biased to the wall ball and sled pull patterns
Saturday, the long run
Sunday, reset
That is about five hours. Nothing goes to failure under a loaded bar: every set ends with two honest reps still in the tank, because missing six months is worse than progressing five percent slower. Wednesday is different on purpose. That is the one session I take to a true limit, I write down a number, and I try to beat it.
And on a morning after a genuinely bad night, every session in the block has a fifteen minute version. Taking it is the plan working, not the plan failing. A missed day is absorbed, never made up.
The twelve weeks
Four weeks of base, four weeks of pace, three weeks of sharpening, one week of taper.
Base builds the engine and teaches the movements while you are still fresh enough to learn them. Pace is where compromised running starts. Sharpen is simulation: the full pattern, real transitions, and a dress rehearsal in Week 10 rather than Week 11, so there are two clear weeks between your hardest day and your start line. Race week takes volume down by roughly half and adds nothing.
I wrote the whole thing down. Thirty pages, every session written twice, once for a garage and once for a gym, with the loads, the standards, the paces and a log. It is free, it has no dates in it, and you point it at whichever race you pick.
Get the free 12-week Hyrox plan
Every figure in it was rated before it was printed, and seventy four failed and were cut. The standard, and the reason each one failed, is at thewholedad.com/proof.
Get the next one Sunday morning.
One letter a week from a dad still in it. Free, and your first workout lands a minute after you join.